


Crimson & Clover

by Skaldic



Category: 10th Kingdom, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer/10th Kingdom
Genre: Be Careful What You Wish For, Crossover, Culture Shock, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Eventual Romance, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Love at First Sight, Red Riding Hood Elements, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaldic/pseuds/Skaldic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T10K/Season 6 AU. Dawn finally gets to be the hero of her own story. It just figures her story would be a fairytale. A series of oneshots, drabbles, and minifics exploring Dawn and Wolf's adventures in Sunnydale, the 9 Kingdoms, and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Love of a Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> _Older And Faraway_ AU. Dawn's looking for love in all the wrong places.

He saw her and he knew; knew the way only wolfs know.   
  
Led by his passions, led by instinct, led by his nose, Wolf forgot about finding the Prince and followed the girl in the red hood. It was everything and nothing like it should be because _he_ was everything and nothing like he should be. Humans made it sound so romantic, the lone wolf, not needing nothing or nobody, but wolfs needed, desperately needed. There were reasons why wolfs mated for life and none of those reasons were living happily ever after.  
  
The reality of loving someone until you or they died, regardless of if they loved you in return, wasn't such a pretty thing.  
  
A wolf alone died fast. A spurned wolf died even faster.  
  
But if they did love you in return, oh, _if they did_. It was worth it. At least, that was Wolf's understanding. It hadn't worked out so well for his parents, but life in general hadn't worked out so well for his parents.  
  
He dogged the girl's steps through the oncoming foot traffic, catching faint teasers of her scent on the crisp, slithering breeze. Winter hadn't yet given over to true spring in this part of the world and the midday sunshine was pale and weak, barely warming as it cut thin lines through the dusty clouds. Bad lambing weather, Wolf couldn't help noting with a gleeful rush. The grass would be as cold and wet as the air and it would follow the sheep, ewe and lamb alike, into the barn on their thick, biteable wool. If the shepherdess didn't dry them thoroughly enough, the young ones would sicken for pneumonia.   
  
Good news for a hungry wolf who had endured baked beanstalk for seven years. Sick sheep didn't make as much noise; he'd be able to pick off several before anyone was the wiser. Not so good news for the farmers, however. For the sheep, too, he imagined, but they were such sultry little succubi, frolicking in the fields so wantonly, so _temptingly_. They deserved whatever short, violent end came to them. Hopefully within his jaws.  
  
Like those poor, delicious, _devious_ sheep, the girl moved with an eye-catching gate, her lissome legs stepping as gracefully as a doe's. She pulled her hood more securely over her head and wrapped her arms around herself against the bitter chill. _He_ could warm her. The instant Wolf thought it, he wanted it. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything. He wanted it more than _sheep_. The sharp stab of visceral longing was enough to leave him trembling and breathless.   
  
_Love_ , he realized with a thrilling sort of terror.   
  
Already her sweet scent had blotted out the strange, burnt smell of this new, industrial land. Already it had etched itself across the surface of his pounding heart in a thick, bloody scrawl. He didn't know her name or the shape of her face, but he was hers.   
  
This was why his mother had followed a small human man into his small human home so many years ago.  
  
Such were the ways of wolfs.  
  
The girl turned down an alley and so he turned, too. Wolf wasn't expecting a pale, beautiful fist to herald an explosion of pain. Staggering back, his hand rose to touch his blackening eye. The girl, for she really was just a girl, glared at him with eyes as blue and fierce as a blistering summer sky.   
  
Strong. Capable. Vicious. _Beautiful_. Wolf lost another piece of himself. "Cripes, you're gorgeous! A complete _vision_."  
  
The girl rubbed her knuckles, stretching her fingers. "Oh, _ow_. My kingdom for Slayer strength."  
  
Her kingdom. Wolf straightened, taking this startling piece of information and slotting it into place. In her clinging men's clothes and thin red hood, the girl looked nothing like he expected a queen or princess to look, but nothing in this land was familiar to him. It was a cold, hard place filled with glittering glass towers that climbed as tall as beanstalks. Even the people were cold and hard. They passed each other in belligerent indifference, rarely making eye-contact with each other, rarely acknowledging each other at all. Such a strange kingdom would certainly have an equally strange sort of royalty.   
  
And strange she was. The girl pulled out a small container from her pocket and held it up. "Five seconds to explain why you're following me or I mace you."  
  
Potion or poison, Wolf wasn't keen on finding out which, or _witch_. Witch Queens were infamous for their limited patience.  
  
So he gathered his bravery and shared the new, frightening truth written on his heart: "I love you," he said.   
  
The girl rocked back on her heels, eying him with frank skepticism. The "mace" faltered, then lowered slightly. "Okay, that's new. Creepy, but new."   
  
"I know it's sudden, Your Highness," he rushed on, too taken for caution, "but _huff puff_ , you've bewitched me. Enchanted me." He bit his lip, a whimper in his throat, and took a step closer. "Your scent alone." He sniffed the air. "Perfumes usually leave me cold," he told her, slow and measured, trying to rein himself in. "Great reeking clouds that have _nothing_ to do with the scent underneath them, but _yours_ , oh." Before she could protest, he lifted her hand and scented down her slender arm. "It doesn't mask or destroy your scent at all, it _enhances_." He met her eyes, feeling a growl build. "You smell _divine_."  
  
The skepticism in the girl's bright blue eyes slowly faded to tired resignation. She pulled her hand from his and sighed, pushing her hood back to reveal a rich sheet of shining brown hair. "The joys of being babysat by guys with super senses." She looked him over. "You're not human, are you?"  
  
Wolf's shoulders hitched, his posture faltering. Even here, it came back to what he was. Or, rather, what he wasn't.   
  
"I'm _half_." A feeble protest, but he knew it wouldn't make a difference. It never did with wolfs. He could already hear the outraged screams, feel the hot lick of the executioner's fire. Stupid to follow a girl in red; didn't he _know_ how that ended? Stupider still to fall for her in the silence between heartbeats. Whining, Wolf shakily sunk to his knees at her feet, his new awareness of her turning jagged as broken glass. "Please. _Please_. You have only to let me prove myself to you. You'll never be loved so strongly or faithfully. I'll, I'll--" He looked around for inspiration. "I'll never eat another shepherdess!"   
  
"Another shepherdess," the girl echoed, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
Yeah, probably not the best route to take; dead girls tended to sour potential romance.   
  
"Not that I ever have," he assured her, smiling weakly. "That would be... wolfish and terrible." He rallied, his smile broadening. "But now I never will!"   
  
The girl stared down at him, rubbing her head. He heard her mutter a very unhappy, " _So_ not a guidance counselor."   
  
"My name's Wolf," he told her helpfully.  
  
"Of course it is," she said, waving for him to stand. "And you love me."  
  
"Very, very much," he agreed softly, rising. The dreamy, _creamy_ curve of her cheek begged to be touched, so he gently drew his thumb along it. When she didn't flinch, just stared at him, the glitter in her eyes wary but ultimately permissive, he fit his palm against her profile, cradling her cheek.   
  
Finally, though, she wrapped her elegant, milky fingers around his forearm and pulled his hand away. "It's a spell. I made a wish."   
  
Wolf's eyes widened; his thoughts raced. Wishes... could be bad, very bad. The magic dragon dung bean sitting in his pocket was proof enough of that.   
  
"What did you wish for?" he asked, curious, but not accusing. If it _was_ wish magic, he couldn't say he minded very much, especially if it meant he got a princess of his very own. Maybe she'd been given a boon by a good fairy. Those kinds of wishes always ended happily.  
  
The girl rubbed her eyes and her guilt was strong enough to _smell_. Maybe not a good fairy, then. "Oh, you know, the usual." Hand falling to her side, she released a bitter laugh. "I wanted someone who would love me. Someone who wouldn't leave. Someone who wasn't my sister's." The enthralling glitter in her eyes turned suspiciously wet. "Stupid, right?" Making an aggravated noise, she yanked her hood back on. "And now I'm in frickin' _New York_. With you."  
  
Wolf shook his head, shook and shook. He rubbed her small shoulders. Oh, his poor, decadent little girl. "No," he disagreed. "I don't think it's stupid at all."  
  
"Oh, _come on_ ," she snapped, her voice cracking, "I wished you this way. How is that not stupid?"  
  
Perplexed, Wolf canted his head. His brow furrowed. "It's never stupid to want to be loved, Your Highness."  
  
She shrugged his hands off her shoulders. "My name's Dawn." She stalked out of the alley. "Anyway, it's not like it's real."  
  
Wolf caught her sleeve, pulling her back around. "What do you mean?"  
  
Dawn jerked herself free, crossed her arms, and lifted her chin, meeting his eyes directly: a challenge. Then she swallowed, her knuckles bunching white. The image of strength was replaced by uncertainty, defiance by a curling wisp of fear. When she spoke, her voice was very small. "Magic doesn't count."  
  
It hurt, hearing that, but Wolf shoved the pain aside, focusing on what was important: Dawn.   
  
"You think you hurt me." It was shocking; that she would care at all stunned him. "You think you've _harmed_ me."  
  
"Uh, duh, because I did? Brain rape is bad. It has _rape_ in it. Ergo, the bad." Her hand cut the air. "Tara _left_ because Willow rewrote her mind!"  
  
It was then that Wolf realized how very young she was and how very much he didn't care. Dawn had wished for someone to love her and stay by her side. What kind of unhappy life had she lived that she'd felt compelled to _wish_ for such simple, necessary things?  
  
Wolf exhaled deeply and shook his head again, a crooked smile tugging his lips. "It doesn't take much to win the heart of a wolf, my delectable dear. Beauty. A pleasant scent. A shapely figure in a--" He plucked the front of her hooded jacket. "--red hood. You only needed to be put in my path." When she didn't argue with him, he stepped in close, hunching to bring them nose to nose. "Trust me, Dawn; girls in red are something of a family tradition."  
  
She leaned back, jaw dropping. "You're the Big Bad Wolf!" And the way she said it, the way she _smiled_ , made Wolf, for the first time, feel proud of the title.  
  
He laughed, brushing a knuckle along her jaw. "Well, not anymore."


	2. A Voice Crying (in the Wilderness)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dawn just wants someone, somewhere, to notice her.

Dawn could neatly define her life in two words: crushing loneliness. More and more, she hit that shrill, glass-cracking note that even she hated, but when she was screaming, stomping, stealing, everyone _had_ to pay attention to her, even if it was only to tell her to shut up, stop it, no. Sometimes she could barely breathe past the perpetual scream of frustration lodged in her throat. But no one cared. No one noticed. More importantly, no one listened.   
  
That was until she was pulled into the guidance councilor's office and finally, _finally_ , someone asked her how she was feeling, how she was dealing, if she was dealing at all.   
  
So she'd said too much and not enough; in a burst of rage thick enough to choke on, Dawn had made a wish that managed to be both terribly specific and terrifyingly vague. But it wasn't what she'd said that stood out the most to Dawn. Out of everything she and Miss Addams talked about that afternoon, it was the last question the woman had asked her that kept tumbling through her head. Miss Addams had looked up from Dawn's folder, its contents embarrassingly thick, and the earnest concern on her face had softened to a faraway thoughtfulness. "Do you believe in happily ever after?" she'd asked.  
  
Dawn hadn't even needed to think before she'd answered. "No." She'd shrugged, then. "Life gets in the way."   
  
You couldn't get to the _happily_ if no one stuck around for the _after_.   
  
She'd taken the faint tightening around Miss Addams's dark brown eyes as pity and shut down after that, but looking back on it, Dawn now thought it might have been anger, and anger on her behalf; vengeance demons were always so passionate about their pet causes.   
  
After Buffy's annual birthday bash, emphasis on bash, had gone down as it usually did (chock full of violence, near-death, and unnecessary drama), Dawn hadn't noticed anything wrong until the next morning when she'd run out the door to catch the bus and -- boom: Empire State Building. Then, you know, she'd met the Big Bad Wolf, complete with a big bad crush, and, well, that Happily Ever After question suddenly made a lot of sense.  
  
Snapping open the cap on her "mace", actually her cherry lip gloss, Dawn applied it to her rapidly chapping lips. On the heels of the realization that she'd traded Sunnydale for Midtown Manhattan, the whistling breeze had quickly informed her that she so wasn't dressed for mid-February in the Big Apple, even if it was unseasonably green. Her fitted red hoodie wasn't ever meant to do battle with actual weather, just the AC in Mister Davis's classroom.  
  
So, stranded, cold, and stuck with a smitten fairytale villain. Dawn was positive it could be worse, she just wasn't sure how.   
  
More death and misery maybe. Death and misery always got the pity party hoppin'.   
  
Watching Wolf charm money and directions out of unsuspecting joggers was kind of neat, though. For all of his weirdness, and there was a lot of weird, _Anya_ levels of weird, Wolf was scary good at talking people into things. From her vantage point on the grassy little hill where he'd told her to wait for him, Dawn could easily track his progress as he stalked Central Park's footpaths. And that was exactly what he was doing -- stalking; each cheerfully waylaid jogger was an ambush and each successful confab was him bringing down his prey. At first, the way Wolf moved, his long legs and wiry body carrying him along in a smooth, rolling lope, had reminded her so forcefully of Spike on the hunt that she'd sat uneasy each time he approached someone.   
  
Was he going to hurt them? Was he going to _kill_ them?  
  
But nobody bled and nobody died; once done, Wolf would simply bow with a dramatic flourish and wave the joggers on with a jaunty tip of an invisible hat.   
  
The wink he threw her each time made Dawn want to roll her eyes, but she rewarded him with an encouraging, if shivery, two thumbs up. The current plan was to phone Buffy without calling collect and racking up a giant, unpayable bill. As plans went, not terrible, but that meant money, which neither of them had, and _getting_ money meant Wolf prowling around Central Park like a, well, wolf. Dawn watched as he spun some convoluted story to a young man in a navy blue business suit, his long-fingered hands sweeping in theatrical arcs, and mentally amended: a wolf crossed with a carnival showman.   
  
Or a con artist. She wasn't sure yet.  
  
Finally, just when the cold had her ready to cry uncle, Wolf blurred back over with jingling pockets and settled into a quick crouch in front of her. Dawn stared at him and, incredulous, reached over to tug the pin-striped sleeve of his newly acquired _suit jacket_. "You took his coat?"  
  
Wolf's shoulders snapped back, his spine going as straight as a new pencil. "Of course not!" He shook his head and tsked at her. " _Never_ thieve what may be freely given, Dawn. Wolf credo." Before she could ask if that was 'Wolf' in the personal sense or the more general wolf-the-animal, he slid the jacket off and grandly swept it out to drape over her. Straightening the collar and lifting her hair outside of the jacket, he said, "No, no. He _gave_ me his coat."   
  
Sliding her arms through the lined sleeves, Dawn doubted she'd make a very good wolf. How many things had she stolen within the last week alone?  
  
She fingered the actual-fact silk handkerchief in the jacket's chest pocket. "But how did you get him to give it to you?"   
  
His eyes not meeting hers, Wolf shrugged. "Oh, I just appealed to his human decency."   
  
In other words, he'd made the guy feel privileged to lose _only_ his coat.   
  
Predators. Dawn felt a sigh coming on. Still, the suit jacket was much warmer than just her hoodie. She began rifling through its pockets. "I still can't believe how good you are at that. All that smooth-talking." She paused, rethinking; Wolf was too twitchy for smooth. "Fast-talking."  
  
He eased into a sitting position, waving his hand dismissively. "We wolfs are persuasive chaps. It's what we do. It's why we're still around."  
  
Looking up from counting the money he'd collected, Dawn quirked a questioning eyebrow.  
  
"Just think about it," he said, digging through his own pockets. "People hate us. They hunt us. Look at a sheep wrong and it's, 'Burn it!'" A bitter twist to his lips, Wolf threw a few coins and balled up bills onto the grass between them. "I imagine your father will have _quite_ a lot to say when he meets me."  
  
Dawn huffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah, uh..." She shook her head. "Somehow, I don't see that happening."  
  
Wolf stilled, the animated lines of his scruffy face sobering as he leaned forward. Dawn had originally thought his eyes were brown to match his dark, backswept hair, but this close, she could see that they were really a rich, earthy green flecked with gold. And as his eyes searched hers, the gold flared to swallow the green, burning vampire bright. It only lasted a second, barely that, but that was long enough to remind her that Wolf was only _half_ human.   
  
Dawn told her stupid skipping heart that, no, it wasn't exciting.  
  
"What-- What do you mean?" He wet his lips, scratching his temple, and his laughter, strained and nervous, had even less to do with amusement than Dawn's had. "I _should_ meet your parents, all things considered. To respectfully inform them of my intentions." A beat. Wolf's eyes flicked over her in a quick, but thorough, scan that again reminded her of Anya. "Not my _real_ intentions, of course. Parents don't want to hear that, but--"   
  
Dawn held up a hand, cutting Wolf off before he could dig an even deeper hole for himself; the vengeance curse had hit him with all the subtlety of a truck. "My dad left when I was nine, okay?" She was proud at how casual she sounded, how unaffected. Buffy had mastered the _how much do I not care?_ tone faster than she had. Shrugging, Dawn smoothed out a ten. "I can count the times I've seen him since on one hand. And my mom died last year."  
  
" _Oh_ ," Wolf breathed the sound out on a sad doggy whine. "I'm so sorry. That's terrible."   
  
"Yeah." Dawn gave up counting the money; it was more than enough for a prepaid cell. "So no meeting my parents."  
  
"Your sister, then?" It was a tentative question.  
  
She rubbed her eyes. "I... I guess?" He'd have to, wouldn't he? It wasn't like it was Wolf's fault he was so (literally) crazy about her. But she had been hoping that the gang would get their Scooby on and track Miss Addams down before any actual meeting could occur. Saying the W-word in front of a stranger was bad enough, but making a thirty-something half-human fall in love with her? Buffy would never, ever let her leave the house again.  
  
Dawn dropped her hand and started gathering the money, stuffing it into her pockets. After everything Wolf had done for her, all while fully aware that she'd wished this whole mess into existence, and Dawn didn't even want him to meet her sister. How selfish could she be?  
  
Rising to her feet, she offered him a hand up. "I mean, yeah. Buffy should meet you." After all, Dawn was ashamed of herself, not him.   
  
Wolf hopped up without assistance, but took her hand in both of his, scooping it up to snuffle. God, wolves, or _wolfs_ as he insisted, were so weird.  
  
Dawn wiggled her hand out of his grip. Magic had a nasty way of making people go wacky, but she had a feeling that Wolf was plenty wacky all on his own. He was just so not human. Even _she_ could spot it, and her monster-dar was infamously bad. Justin the teen vampire, anyone? Wolf didn't miss a beat at his sudden lack of girl-hand, though. He simply transitioned to draping his arm across her shoulders. Very classic, that. Very cool.   
  
She should shrug away, put some much needed distance between them, but it was kind of nice to have someone paying attention to her again.   
  
Even if he was the Big Bad Wolf and he thought she was some kind of fairytale princess.   
  
And that arm drape was _slick_. Seriously, she gave it two points.  
  
So, with grudging acceptance, Dawn let the arm stay, but she couldn't help asking, "You _do_ realize that I'm fifteen, right?"  
  
"Wolf," he cheerfully reminded her, unrepentant.  
  
"Only half," she reminded him right back, tilting him an arch look.   
  
His dark eyebrows pinched; it seemed she'd said something unexpected. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" And where she was sure there would usually be a hungry leer and sharp, flashing teeth, there was only a strange, gentle curiosity; he genuinely wanted to know.   
  
"No," she admitted, taking the path to lead them out of the park. "Not yet." She poked his side. "Gettin' there, though."  
  
He made a soft, thoughtful noise and sniffed her temple. "You smell _delicious_ ," he said, and it was a full-on, gravelly wolfman rumble.  
  
"Now we've reached uncomfortable." Dawn shrugged out from under his arm and spun around to jab a finger at him. "Please tell me that wolves--" She took a breath a corrected herself, "-- _wolfs_ aren't like praying mantis people. Because I am _done_ with guys trying to eat me. I'll hit you again."  
  
More than that, she'd let _Buffy_ hit him.  
  
But Wolf only stared at her, and then he started to laugh, so she slugged him in the shoulder anyway. "You jerk!"  
  
Still laughing, Wolf circled around to step up behind her, his hands settling on her arms. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Wolfies are _notoriously_ playful." His smile was all teeth. "You do smell delicious, though." He drew the tip of his nose up her cheek, inhaling deeply. "Sweet and savory _all_ at the same time."  
  
Dawn blinked. "Wow, that is so not comforting. In fact, I'd say that's the opposite of comforting."  
  
"Oh, eating you is the _last_ thing on my mind, my scrumptious cream puff."  
  
He said while implying she belonged on a dessert tray.  
  
Dawn slid him a look. "So to clarify, you're _not_ gonna get all rumbly tumbly and eat me?"  
  
And again there was that completely unnerving wolfman rumble. Wolf darted around her so that they were face to face. She noticed that his move also, rather conveniently, blocked off the path of escape if she decided to run. "Oh, no! I couldn't _possibly_. That would be like-- Like gnawing off my own leg! Or ripping out my own heart!" There, Wolf paused, tilting his head, and he continued in a very mild, conversational tone, "And while I've heard that it's possible to live without a heart, it doesn't come very highly recommended." His focus returned to her, his voice softening. "No, I assure you, Dawn, you're quite safe."  
  
"Safe," she repeated. "With you." Just, you know, to be sure.  
  
He nodded once, quick. "Safe as a--" His hand fluttered in one of those broad, theatrical sweeps. "--brick-built pig house!"  
  
All at once, just who she was talking to slapped Dawn in the face again. The Big Bad Wolf. And he though he was in love with her. Why, exactly, was this her life?   
  
Oh, right, because she'd actually trusted an _adult_ to have her best interests at heart. Rookie mistake.  
  
Wolf leaned in and the world narrowed down to the lean, hungry angles of his face, the razor sharp intent flickering in his eyes. Dawn's skin prickled in sudden, unwanted awareness. For all that she was starting to like Wolf, she didn't like how he looked at her; even now, as close as he was, as earnest as he seemed, she still wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or bite her. It had been just as mixed up with Justin, but where Justin had worried Dawn, Wolf scared her.   
  
Scared her in the same dumb, giddy way that Spike had used to. And by the way Wolf's breath caught, she could could tell he liked it.   
  
His eyes flashed gold. "Wolfs mate for life," he said. "You'll never be as safe as you are with me. I'd _die_ for you."  
  
Exhaling sharply, Dawn stepped back. And here she'd been wondering when the _vengeance_ part of this wish would kick in.   
  
Her shoulder clipped Wolf's arm as she shoved past him. “Been there, done that," Dawn said, picking up her pace. She shoved her hands into her pants pockets so Wolf wouldn't see how badly they were shaking. "Try living first, then we'll talk."  
  
The moment, whatever it was, was officially over.


End file.
